


vanity and puns (and the morning temper runs)

by daleked



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Laundry Being Done, M/M, Pining, Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 08:59:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daleked/pseuds/daleked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyler Hoechlin has a pretty good life. Except, of course, the part where he's into his castmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	vanity and puns (and the morning temper runs)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [popfly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/gifts).



> Inspired by Tyler Hoechlin's real life shenanigans- hanging with Haylie Duff, eating good food, and enjoying a view of the beach from his house. Follow me on [tumblr](http://thessaliad.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/daleked).

 

 

Haylie comes back to find Tyler facedown on his bed in a pile of shirts. She throws the first thing she can reach in her grocery bags at him- a little packet of french beans. They bounce off his back (look, she has terrible aim, she's working on it, okay?) and fall onto a shirt.

"Get up," she says. "My god, is this what you call unpacking?" Tyler rolls over and stares up at her sadly. His face is all sad and puppylike. Oh no, it's one of those faces. She knows how to deal with this. Crap, did she remember to buy ice cream?

"Thank you for bringing me some welcome-home food, Haylie," she says in a growly voice. Not that Tyler has a growly voice. It's just her standard 'dudebro-imitation' tone. He makes a small sound of sadness and turns back over to bury his face in his clothes. Yup, she didn't get ice cream. It's safe to leave these bags alone on the floor. She steps over a bunch of bags carefully and sits down on the bed beside him.

"Nggh," Tyler says. "I really like him." Dear God. It's Dylan time. She supposes the moping was bound to start sooner or later. That said, it's a step up from him making cryptic 'love is only for some people' comments he made last year. "I know, baby," she says, and pats his head. He visibly sniffs the shirt below him and she raises her eyebrows.

"... Is that his shirt?"

"He's bad at laundry and I'm helpful," Tyler mumbles explanatorily. Haylie considers this. She needs to drive down to Los Angeles to meet Gwyneth Paltrow for some cookbook advice and a little brunch session tomorrow morning, so she doesn't have enough time to drag Tyler out of his sad mode.

He's probably going to still be here if she comes back after that.

"He likes a girl," Tyler says sadly as he lifts his head. "I know, it happens all the time, people like other people, but she's one of the new make-up girls. They touch his face and compliment it and make him blush."

Haylie can't fight the giggle that escapes her mouth. Dylan, for all his brains and snark, blushes like a virgin maiden at every compliment he gets. Tyler has more than once waxed lyrical about roses blooming on cheeks or some other equally florid metaphor. She suspects he probably has a notebook somewhere filled with awkward prose and poetry full of feelings.

"Come on, up," Haylie nudges. "Look, moping isn't going to help."

"Pining," Tyler corrects. "It's more romantic to be pining." Haylie sends a quick prayer of thanks to whoever made her boyfriend so much less complicated than Tyler Lee Hoechlin.

"Okay, well, Mr. Romance, get up and go for a run or something. I know if I leave you alone here and come back tomorrow you'll still be on top of these clothes doing unspeakable things." Tyler makes a little noise of assent and sits up, looking dejected.

"Yeah, you're right. I'll head down to the gym room." Tyler slouches his way towards the door, stopping to pick up the groceries.

"Thank you for this," he says, hefting the bags. "I know there isn't ice cream, but that's okay. I'm just going to skip cheat day."

"But you love cheat day," Haylie protests. "You just go nuts and use up all the coffee creamer because you think it's _adventurous_."

"I have to be hot," Tyler mumbles. "So Dylan will like me. Or something. I'll figure it out on the treadmill." The both of them leave the room, french beans forgotten.

 

+

Tyler is doing his own laundry when the call comes. His phone trills, an obnoxious little Sexy & I Know It that Posey and Dylan programmed in. There's only one person who has that ringtone on his phone.

"Hello?" Tyler says nervously when he picks up.

"Hey! How's it going?" Dylan crackles. "Bad reception here, but I just wanted to let you know- _bzzt bzzt bzzzzzzt_ next week! You cool with that?" By the last word, Dylan is nearly shouting over the static.

"Yeah, no problem!" Tyler agrees enthusiastically. He's always cool with whatever Dylan wants, even if it's some limited edition sparkle-studded Barbie house. Dylan hangs up without saying anything else. It's his style, something about not being the lame one who says 'bye' like a wistful teenage girl. Posey's words, not his.

Tyler hums as he transfers the clothes from the washing machine to the dryer.

"BRINGING CHURROS" is the first warning Tyler gets from Dylan on Sunday. He assumes it's for the cast party on Friday, where they plan to crash JR's and watch Mission Impossible til they pass out.

"See you!" Tyler texts back. "I'm taking care of the beer :)" He sends the message without debating over the smiley too much.

 

+

The doorbell rings.

It's 7 in the morning, and Tyler rouses himself from the couch where he fell asleep after a Flapjack marathon on cartoon network last night. He's an adult, he can do stuff like that. He pads over to the door and opens it.

"Hey," Dylan greets, lifting a plastic bag and waving it in Tyler's face. "Like I said, I brought churros!" Tyler is going to have a heart attack. He's standing in front of the love of his life in a pair of dirty boxers with cartoon cars on them and nothing else. At 7 in the morning. Dylan must see the blind panic in his face, because he puts the food down and peers at him in concern.

"Sorry I'm early," he says carefully. "Um, I just wanted to get here fast."

"Come in," Tyler offers. "Er. No bags?"

"You have my laundry," Dylan points out, fidgeting. It occurs to Tyler that he hasn't put Dylan's stuff through the washing machine yet. Because he's been sleeping and jerking off on them. Not actually on them, but you know. Yeah. Tyler has a healthy sex drive.

"Right. Sorry. Yeah, I haven't done it, though," Tyler says sheepishly. Dylan grins and waves it off, coming in and leaving the pack of food on the dining table.

"Nah, it's fine. Well, I'm here at your mercy, Hoechlin. My young, nubile body at your service in exchange for temporary lodging." Tyler _is_ going to have a heart attack and die. Never mind all the hours he's ever put into the gym.

"No, no, I'm glad to have you," Tyler chokes out. "Make yourself at home. I'm going to put on a shirt." He dashes upstairs and grabs all of Dylan's clothes, stuffing them into a bag and bringing them to the laundry room and shoving them into the washing machine. He can hear Dylan talking somewhere in the kitchen, voice floating upstairs. Tyler takes a random shirt out of a nearby basket and pulls it on, straining to listen.

"I mean, yeah, I went home, but shooting's resuming soon and what's the point in hanging so far away from you guys?" Tyler can hear the clatter of a spoon against a bowl. Cereal, probably. He runs the washing machine and goes downstairs, rewarded by the sight of Dylan kicking his legs against the sides of the island counter while perched atop it, munching on cornflakes dry.

"Is that my shirt?" Dylan asks, grinning. "Missed me that much?" Tyler glances down and- yep, it is. He apologises and fumbles with it, trying to take the shirt off, but Dylan hops down from the counter and places a hand on his arm.

"Hey, it's fine, man. What's a shirt between friends?" He wanders off to the living room and Tyler wonders if it's good form to jerk off when you have a guest in your house.

It's going to be a long two weeks.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to know what you thought of this fic.


End file.
